


Howling at the Moon

by The Lucky Bard (renieflorian)



Series: One-Shot Collection - Original characters (Dragon Age) [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age - Various Authors, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Background Relationships, Family Drama, Family Secrets, First Kiss, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:40:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26124373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renieflorian/pseuds/The%20Lucky%20Bard
Summary: Inquisition agent Renée, an elf associate at the University of Orlais, tells a piece of her story, revealing some important characters in her path, and arousing the interest of a certain member of Lavellan's team.However, a secret she kept for herself for a long time is shared only with her friend, the mage Agnes.This story was named after D Fine Us' songHowling at the Moon
Relationships: Male Lavellan & Dorian Pavus, Solas & Original Female Character(s)
Series: One-Shot Collection - Original characters (Dragon Age) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2015146
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	Howling at the Moon

“You’re full of secrets, aren’t you?” Lavellan dropped the spoon into his bowl, speaking with his mouth full, and an expression of astonishment on his face.

“No, I am not full of secrets, Fenlaros. That’s _you_ who have never _ever_ asked anything about my family before.” Renée ignored the inquisitor and kept focused on her own meal. “Oh, I forgot you have been really busy coming and going through the library lately…” She glanced at him “It’s that mage from Tevinter who’s keeping you fully occupied now so you never have time for your friends anymore, right?”

“ _That mage from Tevinter-_ ” The inquisitor corrected her in a disgusted tone “His name is Dorian, and you know him well.”

“Not as much as you, it seems!” she retorted.

The group was on their first night at the West Woods campsite in the Hinterlands, a mission that aimed to gather information about the passage of Grey Wardens through the region and Renée was carrying out her first trip with the Lavellan team as a requisition officer. The demand for raw materials for revitalization of Skyhold increased and the inquisitor decided that her presence in the field would be essential to assist him with the geological survey.

That night was particularly enjoyable, contrasting to the unchanging bitterly cold climate in the Inquisition fortress. A gentle breeze was blowing, felt only by the subtle rustling from the tall lush treetop. As the sky was unclouded, Luna in its plenilune illuminated the lowlands intensely from the zenith, while the bright white Satina showed itself only as a thin shiny wedge close to the horizon. A night sky setting that would be seen again only months later.

“Do you guys want us to leave?” Agnes mocked the infuriated elven pair, followed by snickers from the other three party members. The mage was recruited to accompany Renée during her mission, following the inquisitor’s orders, since he deemed the researcher could take risks working on her own in the field. Also, both girls seemed to share an unusual harmony between each other. The episode in Haven, when Agnes saved her life from an enraged red Templar, was crucial to the inquisitor’s decision as well.

“I’m not leaving. I want to hear this story!” Varric opposed, approaching Renée with some papers and a quill in hand.

“You’re not going to-” she gave the dwarf a suspicious look.

“Of course I will, ginger. Imagine you could feature as one of my next book’s protagonists!” Varric sketched something incomprehensible in his papers.

“I also want to stay. Preferably, if we witness some more of those embarrassing situations again.” Blackwall gently placed his bowl beside him, snapped his fingers and looked at Renée with curiosity and a mischievous smile on his lips.

“I’ll probably regret it bitterly…” Renée scratched her forehead.

“If that comforts you, professor, _I am_ legitimately interested in your story.” Solas declared with determination. Agnes took a long sip of her tea, staring at Renée with a half smile slowly outlining behind her mug. The researcher pretended to ignore her friend’s teasing, her cheeks becoming crimson.

“Forgive me, Ren… that-” the inquisitor sighed “that wasn’t my intention. Please, tell us what you wanted to say.” Embarrassed, Lavellan finally abandoned his bowl and focused his attention on the researcher. Renée glared at him, taking a deep breath.

“Right. I hope I haven’t raised expectations too high.”

***

It was the year 9:19 Dragon and clan Talassan was carrying out the seasonal pilgrimage northeast of Ferelden. These Dalish were known in the arling of Amaranthine, mainly near the urban area, for their trade of handicrafts, although they were extremely distrustful of human presence and even of elves who lived in the allienages. This symbiotic relationship with cities was being maintained only for the sake of the clan survival, since they were a reduced group on the verge of disappearance, and the commerce was being useful to keep their traditions alive, also helping to raise resources for the clan itself.

Elder crafter Orathari was following the pilgrimage for yet another reason. Her daughter Fioren had bonded to an elf from Amaranthine, Alarion, both at very early age, choosing to leave the clan to try a whole new life in the city. This year, Evune completed her fourth spring and the craftswoman was planning to carry her granddaughter with her during a season to introduce her to Dalish culture.

In fact, her true desire was to incorporate Evune into the clan as soon as she reached her teenage years, however Fioren and, especially Alarion, refused to give up their daughter to the Talassan. Moreover, the clan itself was averse to the crafter’s goal since, according to them, Evune had her blood stained by the origin of a “flat ear”, or for being born from a city elf, a dishonor to the eyes of that particular Dalish people.

Regardless of her family wishes and objections, the child always showed a great deal of affection for her grandmother and, at every visit, she used to be genuinely in awe by Orathari’s songs and the “blood writing” on her face in honor of June, the god of Crafts in the Elven pantheon.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Alarion asked his wife, touching the small hands of his daughter who was being carried by Orathari, as if he was avoiding to leave his precious treasure be taken away. “I have a terrible feeling.”

“She will be fine, _vhenan_. Look, she loves her grandma!” Fioren admired the way her daughter laughed easily when the elder entertained her, almost ignoring the touch of her father. However, her heart was also pounding apprehensive, but she was struggling against any negative thoughts that could eventually arise.

A tuned whistle was heard in the distance and Orathari realized it was time to leave. The small clan had already prepared the aravels and their few hallas and was ready to travel again. Alarion and Fioren watched the Talassan suspiciously as they gave surly looks in return.

“Don’t mind them, my child. Our little Evune will be fine, I assure you.” The crafter kept humming softly to divert the little elf girl. “We won’t be too far from here. In case she doesn’t adapt, I will return immediately with her to Amaranthine. I promise.”

“In case _anything_ bad happens to my daughter, elder,” Alarion approached Orathari ominously, “You will see me tracking you like a madden wyvern.” The veins on his neck bulged and his jaw locked tightly, giving the crafter a furious look. Only when Fioren touched his arm gently, he could finally release the tension.

“ _Vhenan_. No.”

Orathari stared at his teary eyes, but her voice was soft and yet unshakable. “I… _promise_.”

The relationship between these Dalish and the people of Amaranthine was always kept under highly diplomatic manners, on their own terms, but Alarion and Orathari always held a particular animosity between each other. And they never bothered to keep it veiled.

Shortly, a second more intense whistle was heard again.

“I need to take my leave, my children.”

The crafter kissed the forehead of her daughter tenderly. At Alarion, she just gave a stern look. Evune waved happily to her parents as soon as she noticed the distancing from her grandmother’s arms.

Fioren was unable to hold back her tears, but smiled weakly at the independent posture of her child. “ _Dareth shiral_ _, Mamae_ _… Da’len_ _…_ ”

***

The Talassan clan headed southwest of Amaranthine, establishing a temporary camp on the Hafter River banks. Trade with urban centers had not yielded good results during that season, and this worried Keeper Zatriel a great deal. The city was the main source of exchange, mostly of ironbark made materials, being the elementary production with which these Dalish were able to barter many of the supplies they were unable to manufacture themselves. The Keeper was impatient, and as soon as they settled up the camp, he went to meet the crafter. 

“Orathari, we need to discuss our recently low income-” he was displaying a concerned look and then Evune caught his attention. “Later, we will have to talk about it as well.”

The crafter was trying to keep control of her granddaughter she was carrying on a sling.

“Keeper, I understand that this wasn’t the best of our trades-”

“It was our _worst_ , Orathari.” Zatriel highlighted.

“Yes, Keeper.” Evune was waving her hands towards the children who were playing nearby and demanded insistently to be released. “The problem is-”

“Crafter. A moment, please.” The mage interrupted her again, exasperated. “I don’t want to sound rude… but couldn’t your granddaughter join the other _Da’len_?” He avoided her eyes, scratching his forehead. “I suppose we’ll be able to focus on this important issue… more quietly.” 

Orathari gazed at him perplexed, but decided it would be better to comply with his request. She then headed to the small children gathering, carrying her granddaughter with her.

“I will have to leave Evune with you for a while, would you take care of her? You could teach her the June’s knot game.” She asked the young elves.

The euphoria was great among the younglings with the arrival of the new member. An elf girl barely taller than Evune led her gently by her hand and the others followed the path.

“Stay near the campsite!” Orathari warned, but the group seemed to ignore the alert.

“Crafter!” Zatriel was about to lose his temper. “She will be fine. Now… if I may, we need to discuss our topic. Urgently.”

Orathari took a deep breath before turning to him.

“I don’t want to sound rude-” She paused, staring at the mage and returning the affront, “but I presume we’ve already had this conversation before, if I remember correctly.”

“The point is-”

“The _point_ is,” she interrupted him, “our young are no longer interested in learning the role of craftsmanship. They want to hunt. They want to fight.” She glared at Zatriel with a hopeless look “And I am the last crafter in this clan. The only one. I cannot do it all alone.”

The mage was contemplating her rant motionless. “And what do you suggest?”

Orathari laughed bitterly. “You know what I’m going to suggest.”

Zatriel faltered on his legs, restless. “Ah…”

“We must dissipate, Keeper. The clan of Brecilian-”

“No! NEVER!” The mage interrupted her furiously, pacing the floor agitated.

“Keeper! There is no other way! So many centuries looking for the purity of this clan… for what?!” Orathari followed Zatriel hurried steps with dismay. “You are the last mage in this clan. And I am the last craftswoman. We don’t have even a First anymore! What other clan would sacrifice some of their own Firsts sending them to a-” She paused and exhaled, finally grabbing the mage by his arms and forcing him to look at her, “Keeper… the clan Talassan is dead!”

The mage closed his eyes and took a breath, the tension in his arms could be felt through her hands.

“We have to let this pride for purity go. My last hope may be in Evune. That’s why I brought her.” She then relaxed her hands. “You’ll need to trust me, Zatriel. Just for once.”

***

  
  


The path along the river was being carefully examined by Evune and her Dalish friends. The elven children were seeking for small stones and other unusual objects that caught their attention along the way, except for Savin. The oldest elf boy in the gathering, recently turned ten, was engaged in another kind of activity.

“There’s a cave down there. Let’s take a look!” The eagerness for exploration had the boy to stray far from the others, not really worried if he was being followed or not, but the younger elves showed hesitation.

“The crafter told us not to distance ourselves from the camp.” Lianna, still holding Evune’s hand, opposed decisively the young adventurer.

“Cave?” Freeing herself from her friend’s grip, Evune approached the boy in wary steps, her eyes widened with curiosity.

“Yes, little girl. Cave.” Savin crouched down in front of her, his maize eyes sparkling with excitation by a possible new trailblazer companion. “Are you afraid?”

The little girl shook her head promptly in denial. “I’m not afraid!”

Lianna lingered frozen in her path. The other two young Dalish remained behind her, looking even more suspicious.

“Savin, don’t!” she yelled.

“Don’t be silly, Lianna! We’ll just take a look outside, we will not go deep.” Holding Evune’s hand gently, he walked her down the path that led to the cave. “Lianna is such a wimp!”

The little elf girl looked back and took faltering steps when she saw the increasing distance between her and her partner girl. But it didn’t take long to find her rhythm with Savin’s again.

“I’m not afraid!”

“You are not, Evune. You’re brave.”

“We’ll tell the crafter!” Lianna screamed in the distance.

Savin just waved back without looking behind.

***

The course of Hafter River followed the trail that led to the cave opening Savin had mentioned, and apparently its spring was somewhere up the hills where the cavity was located. The rock shelter aperture was at the waterline and was no wider than three elves walking side by side.

“I thought it was bigger!” the boy complained.

Evune was already walking around the surroundings, looking for small fragments of rocks. “Look, Savin! This stone is really beautiful!” She said in excitement, showing him a pebble with a small inlaid quartz crystal that gleamed as it reflected the light in its amorphous facets. The young elf paid no attention to her, as he was focused on his curiosity about what was inside the cavity, so she went on with her introspective survey.

His exploration was interrupted by a weak howling heard not so far from where they were wandering. Frantic approaching noises of sticks being broken and trampled foliage in every direction showed that it was not just one, but several animals.

“Evune!” He whispered. “Wolves!”

The elf girl was distant, amused by the pebbles on the way and did not hear the calling from her friend.

“Evune!!” Savin tried again, but dread made him shoot away towards the camp, leaving her behind.

Unaware of the noises from the beasts getting closer and closer, Evune picked up another pebble that drew her attention, raising it into the air aiming to display it to her companion. “This one is even more beautiful, Sav-”

Three large gray wolves surrounded the child with bared teeth and growling low, walking restrained but with still threatening steps. An explosive bark from one of them woke Evune from her enchantment to the mineral world. Alarmed, the child dropped all the stones she had collected all over the floor, bringing her small hands close to her chest while watching the creatures in horror. Although she was unable to utter any distress calls, she moaned weakly, switching her gaze between one wolf and another as they expressed their eagerness for the prey. But the final attack was disturbed by a cry of despair.

“ _MANNA_!!”

Orathari was paralyzed a few steps away from the pack, her misty amber eyes focused on her granddaughter, her legs about to collapse but the adrenaline still keeping her on her feet. Panting, she watched carefully each one of the creatures. There were too many for her alone. The crafter had no learning of fighting nor hunting, and her knowledge was based solely on the manufacture of tools, but not on their use. The sight of the dreadful creatures caused her to finally collapse on her knees, and in an outburst of complete agony, she prayed.

“ _Ema lanaste… Ema lanaste, Fen’Harel!”_

The pack, paralyzed by the intervention from the crafter, suddenly had their focus shift to a second distraction. A lone black wolf of enormous size appeared imposing from inside the cave, sniffing the occasion at first, and then growling deep and low at the attackers. The three grays immediately dropped their guard, whining weakly as they stared at each other, disoriented.

Orathari watched the scene with astonishment, her muscles still torpid by fear, and Evune gazed between the different focuses with no understanding of what was about to happen. With a single threatening bark, the giant black wolf chased away the trespassers. As soon as the gray disappeared into the forest, the big black one approached Evune slowly, sniffing suspiciously. The crafter held her breath while the little elf seemed more comfortable with the presence of that great creature.

“Wolf.” Whispering, Evune held up a small hand to try to touch the animal snout with confidence. The creature immediately pulled its nose out of the child range, snorting gently and then, in a quick turn, bolted back into the cave.

Recovering her breath and lucidity, Orathari immediately ran to meet her granddaughter, wrapping her in a tight embrace.

“Hmm! Grandma, you’re squeezing me!” Evune complained.

“Forgive me, _Da’len_ … Are you hurt? Let me take a look-” Orathari inspected closely the little elf’s face and whether there was any other sign of injury to her body.

A series of hushed small whines sounded from inside the cave where the big black wolf had hidden, drawing immediately the attention from the crafter again. Small pairs of bright eyes and large ears emerged from within the cavity. They belonged to curious furry wolf cubs that were watching the unfamiliar creatures outside, but still keeping a safe distance. Then Orathari understood.

“Mama wolf,” she said with a weak smile on her face, “ _Ma melava halani_ _… Ma serannas_ _._ ”

***

“That’s it. That’s my story.” Renée sighed relieved for having accomplished it until the end.

The party stared at her bewildered. Except for Blackwall, who at some point had lay down next to the hearth and ended up falling asleep. Varric kicked him hard when he started to snore loudly.

“I hope that child had his deserved punishment for leaving you behind.” The inquisitor spoke in a taut tone.

“No one ever told me what they did to Savin later. I don’t remember either. I only remember grandma speaking about his wayward personality, he grew up a quite problematic child.” Memories about that boy failed to build up in her mind. But no bitterness had grown in Renée’s heart when she considered the subject, after all, _he was just a child_.

“But… hold on-” Lavellan shook his head as if trying to get his mind right. “Your name… isn’t Renée?”

She laughed. “My name _is_ Renée. You can keep calling me that. I quitted Evune as soon as I moved to Val Royeaux after the end of Fifth Blight.”

“Why the change?” Varric questioned, puzzled, after waking up from his musing about that whole scenario.

Renée shifted restless in her seat. “Well, when I was rescued in Amaranthine during the siege, I was a child… a teenager. And the only survivor in my family.” Her eyes tracked her companions one by one, hoping to not be asked for much details on this matter. “I was shocked, of course, probably in panic, and I can’t recall what happened in my head during that moment. I got voiceless for a long time, and when I was asked about my identity, I just couldn’t speak. So, later, lucky knocked on my door and I got, well, _adopted_ by an Orlesian family. A noble family. And they gave me that name.”

“You were taken into servitude.” Fenlaros corrected.

She sighed. “If you prefer that way. But I have no complaints whatsoever. They gave me a new chance of living, and a new name, which I like better.” The elf looked down, smiling tenderly at the memory. “ _Evune_ alludes to a past life full of misfortune. Instead, _Renée_ in Orlesian means ‘reborn’… and I believe that was a very fortuitous choice. After all, I was reborn twice.”

“Three times.” Agnes rectified, “Wolves, Fifth Blight… Haven.” she said with a grin on her face.

“Yes, three times.” Renée agreed, returning her the smile.

Lavellan chuckled and decided that moment would be truly appropriate for returning the mocking. “ _Maybe we could leave you both alone_ -”

Renée smacked his arm hard with a fist. “Don’t be ridiculous!”

“Ouch!” He yelled.

Blackwall stood up startled after Fenlaros complaint. “Wha-what did I lose?”

“Only the best part.” Varric muttered.

“There were wolves.” mentioned the inquisitor. “By the way, who in good conscience would say a prayer to… Fen’Harel?” 

Solas moved uneasy. “Someone who is desperate perhaps? About to lose a loved one?” he replied in exasperation.

“Exactly! Desperate! That’s the word.” Lavellan pointed out, aiming at Solas, who grunted low in return.

The general discomfort impelled Agnes to raise her voice in an attempt to change the subject. “So! Tell me, Renée… did your grandmother teach you the path of craftsmanship? You said she wanted to take you to the clan.” 

“Craftsmanship? No, no… I believe that was never her intention.” Renée shifted the firewood carelessly in the hearth with a stick. “But she eventually returned me to my parents in Amaranthine. She said I was still too young to be with the Talassan after that incident. But she kept visiting me in the city along with the Keeper-” the elf glanced restless at her companions. “Well, anyway.”

For a long time, the inquisitor was staring at her, wondering and eager to get back to the Dalish subject. “So. _Evune_ in elvhen means-”

“Moon. _Evune_ means ‘moon’ in Dalish, yes.” she smiled. “It’s beautiful, I know, but now I am Renée.” She stood up stretching, taking a deep breath. “So, long story and, if you don’t mind, I will leave to rest. Tomorrow will be a grueling day.” She said with a faint smile on her face, but her countenance was melancholic. The researcher then walked out of the camp silently. Agnes hesitated for a moment, but decided to follow her friend.

***

“Hey, silly elf.” Agnes approached with a concerned face. “Are you alright?”

The night sky was the focus of Renée’s gaze. As if under a spell, she handled a small object in her hands in an absorbed and unpretentious way. “I missed my grandmother today…”

“I figured.” The mage watched the hands of her friend, but kept the question to herself. “Have you considered asking the inquisitor to send someone to locate her? You know, I think he wouldn’t deny it to you.”

Eyes closed with grief, Renée shook her head. “I don’t know if she’s still alive, Agnes. And I’m not sure if I want to know whether she-” The elf sighed deeply, unable to keep her past memories without a tightening in her chest.

“Come on. Open your heart to me.” She approached the elf, placing gently one of her hands over her shoulder.

Renée exhaled completely the air from her lungs and the touch of her friend unleashed a deep compression in her throat. “I don’t know if you will understand.”

Agnes shrugged. “It doesn’t hurt to try.”

It did hurt. Many years avoiding the whereabouts of her family wasn’t for nothing. The topic was very sensitive and the elf decided it was better to talk about anything else.

“What about your… friend? Have you heard any news from him again?”

Agnes smiled weakly. The restlessness was evident in her face, and now it was her turn to remain speechless. No word dared to come out from her lips. Instead, she just denied in silence.

Somehow, the sudden change of focus causing the mage to wonder now about her own issues was relieving to the elf. Renée then brought to light something she had in mind. 

“Look. I’ve been thinking about the things you’ve told me and… Perhaps I had someone in mind who might be able to help.”

The mage couldn’t hide her curiosity, and she stared at her friend with interest. “So… Who’d be this person?”

Rubbing her hands nervously against each other, Renée insinuated a sentence, but the revelation failed to come out at first. 

“This guy… Solas. He seems to have a deep understanding on-” She swallowed. “Spirits and related entities.” 

“ _This guy, Solas…_ ” Agnes mocked, repeating her words. “Who are you trying to trick, elf?”

Pretending innocence, Renée shrugged. “How so?”

“You act like ‘ _this guy, Solas_ ’ is a complete stranger-” Agnes smacked her friend gently with her elbow, playfully, “We know it’s much more than that.”

The elf faltered. “Much more than that? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Agnes smiled. “Right. I don’t want to torment you with one more problem. I know you already have many. And some very serious as far as I could tell.”

Renée just nodded in silence, her gaze lost on the dark horizon in the woods. It seemed it wouldn’t be an easy path mislead that mage.

“Sorry to take up this issue again, elf-“ She crossed her arms, facing her friend with an inquisitive gaze. “But… are you sure you don’t need help with _anything_ else?”

Renée wobbled on her legs. That coercion from Agnes was beginning to bother her. She had never been pressured to report her anxieties in this way by her fellow, and she was suspecting the mage could know more than she should. Annoyed, the researcher sighed and lowered her head, but Agnes tried _again_.

“My friend… Have you had contact with magic before?”

The inquiry caused dizziness. Renée avoided the mage’s gaze, but her teary eyes were already pretty evident.

“Why do you ask?”

The words came out weak and stammered and Agnes was finally convinced that her mate was facing something she couldn’t handle alone. The _burden_ of Magic. How long had she been keeping this to herself? What or who would have caused so much fear on her to address this topic? The questions were many, but Agnes decided, just on impulse, to embrace her friend tightly. In a matter of seconds, she could feel the elf’s heart beat fast and hard against her own chest.

“Hey, I’m here for you, okay? Nothing will happen-”

The mage felt the body of the elf shaking slightly and when she noticed, Renée started to cry compulsively.

“Holly Andraste, what have they done to you?” Agnes tried to pull the elf away to face her, but she gripped her robes tightly with one of her hands, trying to hide her face as much as possible. Her other one was still crushing the small statuette she was still handling, in an attempt to hold on to her only source of faith.

“Renée!” The mage held the elf firmly by her shoulders, making an effort to watch her in the eyes. When she finally managed to disengage from her grip, Agnes saw the elf’s face all covered in tears, sucking in air trying to be able to finally speak.

“I-“ She vacillated, while the mage kept staring at her in shock. “Nobody did anything to me.”

“So, what?“

An outraged stare unfolding on the elf’s countenance prevented Agnes to keep questioning. A look that carried a deep lament.

“I killed them.” the elf released gravelly.

Dazed, Agnes frowned. “Who, Renée?”

“My… parents.”

That feeling had plagued her for years, it was a pain that came and went, a taint in her memories, but within a few minutes, it felt again like an inert remembrance, something she knew she couldn’t change anymore.

“You what?” the mage was still staring at her, appalled.

The elf showed a distant, almost indifferent look. The tears that flowed minutes before started to dry on her face. “I tried to help them. But they were too many-” She looked away, picturing all that disgrace around her one more time. “I was a child. I had no control over my will. Over my… magic. Then they came. The darkspawn. Horrible monsters, hungry for blood and for our flesh. We were in the middle of that mess. So, I decided to try… some of the few things Keeper Zatriel got to teach me.”

Little by little, the ideas in her mind started to organize again, as the outburst occurred. Agnes listened to her in silence. It all seemed very familiar to her, at the same time that she feared for the dangers that her friend might have faced by her inconsequential action, but she couldn’t do anything. She was just a _child_.

“Then it happened. I was the only survivor and… when I realized, I was being taken into the Chantry with the last survivors from Amaranthine.”

Agnes touched her friend’s shoulder with kindness. “I’m so sorry.”

The elf just nodded with a weak smile. 

***

  
  


The girls spent a long time in silence, their gazes focused on the clear night sky of the Hinterlands. Agnes decided to give Renée a break, but she knew that she should raise the subject with her again in the future. But definitely not that day. The silence was broken by sounds of approaching footsteps. A smile of satisfaction broke over the mage’s face when she noticed the source of the noise.

“Well, my time has come, my friend.” she said, standing back slowly.

Stopped a distance from them, Solas had a wary demeanor, his hands resting behind his back and a curious look on his face.

“I have come to confirm if you both weren’t in need of help.”

“We’re alright, Solas. Thank you for your concern.” Agnes feigned, moving away from them towards the campsite. “We’ll talk later, right?” She sent back a comforting look to her friend.

Renée nodded slowly, following her friend’s steps with embarrassment. Smiling awkwardly, she oscillated on her legs, squeezing apprehensively the statuette between her fingers.

“Agnes… she’s a good girl.”

Solas was contemplating the scene with entertainment.

“Your friendship… is something amusing to witness-” The elf mage pointed out, his eyes noticing the small object Renée was handling. “May I ask you what it is?” 

Renée observed her statuette aloof, forgetting for a moment she was carrying it in her hands. “This?” she handed it over to him. “It’s something my grandmother carved for me after that incident I mentioned before.”

The piece, small but skillfully engraved with smooth edges, was designed in the shape of a proud wolf lying on a base, its head holding high, as if watching something petty to its right. Solas caressed the sculpture blandly with his long fingers, enjoying every detail of the artwork.

“Do you know what this means?” The mage glanced at her, waiting for an honest answer.

She evaluated the inquiry for a moment, puzzled, thinking carefully about how to respond properly. Solas still intimidated her, inconveniently reminding her of some professors from the University of Orlais. Few of them were truly indulgent and allowed informal talking outside the laboratories, while the vast majority were not, especially toward the elven students. Those more austere used to propose questions during the most unexpected situations, even outside the classes. The inquiries could easily be taken as implied tests and every mistake could be harshly criticized. Was Solas trying to act like this?

“Eh… This is the symbol of Fen’Harel. The Dread… Wolf.” She wavered, trying to sound as a student would speak to a teacher. “These legends don’t convince me much, let me tell you.” She searched unassertive for his eyes, hoping she hadn’t ruined the conversation with the comment beyond what was requested.

“Why don’t they convince you?” Solas returned with a solemn gaze.

One question for another. She hated this. It was sounding exactly like those endless trials. She shrugged, feeling uncomfortable, trying to find an answer that made sense, but gave up halfway.

“Ah… I don’t know, Solas.” She exhaled heavily. “I only bring this as a dear memory from my family. That’s all. I don’t believe those stories.” she vented.

Solas smiled in amazement. “Well, this is new! It is truly… new.” He watched the statuette again, trying to understand her reasons. “ _A dear memory_?”

“Why… yes? It seems that it’s blasphemy just to mention his name. Like, what would happen if I called it three times? _Fen’Harel! Fen’Harel! Fen’Harel_ ! Would he appear right in front of me?” She looked around as if searching for the conjured deity, and then shrugged. “Come on. It is just a _symbol_!”

Solas couldn’t help but laugh at her innocent assertion, an amused expression showing up on his face.

She inspected him worried and confused. That was a step forward, it seemed, an audacity from her but apparently well received by the mage. 

“I apologize. I did not intend to sound scornful on your… _dear memories_ , if you say so.” He sighed. “But, even though this being just… _a symbol_ -” He paused, searching for the right words, “-it is one constantly associated with evil… mischief… a character with deviated morals.”

Renée shook her head vehemently, laughing. “No. I do not believe this.” She grabbed the statuette from Solas’ hands and waved it in the air. “At least, that’s not what _this_ means to me.”

The mage observed her with admiration.

“Tell me more.”

“Do you want to know? I know the legends on the Dread Wolf, yes. My grandmother used to tell me all those stories. I won’t deny, this was my favorite.” Renée smiled at the memory, but felt foolish at the same time. The mage kept watching her with curiosity. “Besides the symbolic issue, there’s also the historical part no one mentions. I mean, the Dalish. Which I suppose there’s a huge influence on the Dread Wolf’s myth, and this is the one that most intrigues me.” Renée took a breath, a delighted smile breaking upon her face like a child telling about her favorite tale. “I had access to a series of books at the University, talked to many professors and colleagues… They all mention stories about revolutionary people-”

“ _Revolutionary people_?” Solas interrupted, intrigued.

“Yes, revolutionaries…” she continued, “Individuals who made history and ended up becoming legends later, or icons. Like Andraste, for example. Some, for some reason, are always portrayed as villains. And others, written in the tales more heroically than they really should be considered.”

“I do not understand. What are you implying?” The elf crossed his arms clueless.

The researcher sighed, frustrated that she was unable to get her idea across clearly. “The fact is… these individuals acted out for an ideal. However, at some point during their journeys, instead of bringing beneficial results, their actions ended up with opposite consequences. So, what comes to us from history, or in the legend these characters carry, are only remnants of a vile image. Well, some are really unscrupulous, but others… others are just ill-advised in their choices.” Renée sighed outraged. In the distance, she contemplated her friend Agnes in the campsite. “I know myself some close examples… There are people out there who are struggling to fix this.”

“And where do you think Fen’Harel fits in?” Solas wondered, returning to the subject.

Renée looked back doubtfully, shrugging. “I still think the story is poorly told. Why do we never hear the _villain_ ’s side?”

The mage smiled delighted. “I am glad the Dalish did not manage to tarnish your views upon those… _legends_ , professor.”

“I’m just trying to use logic. And scientific judgment.” she retorted.

“Exactly.” he said, approaching her with warily steps. “You are a rare gemstone.”

The comparison made the researcher giggle. “What is it, are you trying to seduce me with this gemstone talk-”

“Perhaps?” Solas interrupted confidently, gazing at her.

Renée widened her eyes, lost in her thoughts. Her face flushed, smiling embarrassed and struggling to avoid his look. She didn’t expect her jest could reveal even that slight intention from the mage. Looking down, her eyes met the black jaw Solas was carrying on a necklace upon his chest. Her curiosity led her to touch the object recklessly.

“That is-”

“Wolf. Yes.” He said with tenderness, analyzing her face carefully. The researcher’s desire for knowledge was evident in her gaze and that was arousing a certain fascination in him.

She examined the jaw with observant hands. “It looks old. Is it a fossil? This stain…”

The remark made Solas smile. “You are keen. Yes, a little old. I found it inside a-”

“Cave? Yes, this black pigmentation on bones is typical of this kind of environment.” Her fingers touched gently each feature of the piece.

Solas remained silent, watching Renée with delight. Her mundane perspective of absolutely everything sprang a sensation in him he hadn’t felt for a long time. Did he ever taste it? He could not tell. It was something _carnal_. His countless experiences in the Fade must have quenched those perceptions all along the way. In an act of instinct, he brought his hands to the ornament as well and intentionally, his fingers brushed hers softly. Alarmed, she looked up, meeting the mage’s blue-violet eyes.

“I’m sorry!” She held her hands back immediately, but Solas claimed them again, resolute, holding them gently.

“You don’t need to apologize.” 

Her hands felt cold and trembling. His deep and affable voice pulsated inside her head and then she felt her legs falter and, trying to desperately catch up a breath, she parted her lips. Their hands were still intertwined, Solas bringing her closer to him slowly, until their bodies touched dangerously. She moaned softly at the sensation of the border between them both having been broken in such ecstatic way. The elf mage glared at her lips intently, their faces close enough to feel each other’s breath. And his scent felt so… _provocative_.

“I will only go further if you allow me to-” he whispered.

On impulse, she interrupted him with an avid kiss.

_What am I doing?_

A question emerged blurred inside her mind, drowned amidst thousands of other lascivious thoughts. Their lips held still for a few seconds, until her evident consent encouraged the mage to go beyond. Wrapping her in his arms, their mouths now sought voraciously each other, like an ancient desire that had long been ignored. Renée then, awakening from her lust, pushed Solas with her weak hands, breaking free from his embrace.

“Wait- Wait!” She sucked in the air with despair. The mage, with a serene countenance, watched her confused. “I shouldn’t… we shouldn't-”

Solas then shook his hands in resignation. “Very well. It was impulsive of me. Forgiv-”

“No, no, no… please, don’t apologize.” She pleaded, approaching him again, a magnetism that was hard to avoid, touching his chest shyly. “That was… good.”

Solas smiled, teasing her. “Just… _good_?”

She grunted nervously. “No, no… much better than good… but-”

“-But?” He sought her eyes still with _that_ soft smile on his face.

Renée took a deep breath. “But… I-” she took some steps away from him hesitantly, still facing the mage head on, but struggling to escape his gaze. “I-I need to go.” She then darted clumsily toward the campsite.

Solas remained steadfast in his place, his gaze following the restless footsteps of the fleeing elf. On the floor, he noticed Renée’s small wolf sculpture dropped during the fervent instant. He bent down to retrieve it, his eyes evaluating the piece with indifference, while a satisfied smile was showing slowly on his lips. He stored the object inside one of his pockets and, under the light of Luna and Satina, he returned with calm steps to the inquisition’s camp.

**Author's Note:**

> Translation of some Dalish terms:
> 
> [vhenan] Heart; often used as a term of endearment.
> 
> [Dareth shiral] farewell; literally "Safe journey."
> 
> [Mamae] Mother
> 
> [Da’len] Little child; little one
> 
> [MANNA] “Stop!!”
> 
> [Ema lanaste, Fen’Harel!] “Have mercy, Dread Wolf!”
> 
> [Ma melava halani] “You helped me”
> 
> [Ma serannas] “My thanks (Thank you)”


End file.
